


Like the Night

by e_p_hart



Category: Original Work, The Smiths
Genre: F/M, High School Love Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_p_hart/pseuds/e_p_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.<br/>I am human and I need to be loved just like everybody else does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Night

She’s coming down the hallway towards you.

Duck, quickly, out of sight! Did she see you?

No, she doesn’t know you’re alive.

You lean against the wall, clutching your math book to your chest. Class is about to start, and you need to go, to hurry, all the way to the other side of the school, to Calculus, and then to English, and then you have to go home.

You lean against the wall, close your eyes, and dream.

 

* * *

 

“How was school?” your mother asks you.

“Fine.”

“How did your history test go?”

“I think I might’ve gotten one question wrong, but it was a really long test.”

Mother frowns, pauses in the middle of wiping a dish. “You studied for three hours!”

You didn’t, not really. You got distracted. Oh, Jillian...

You shrug. “Sometimes the teacher slips something in, mom.” Escape. Upstairs. Your room. The door shut. Your dad isn’t home yet. You won’t see him until dinner anyway: he doesn’t like to speak to anyone right after getting home. You turn your computer on, check your email. Robert and George have replied to you; you save them for later, so you can work up the courage.

Jillian, you think, you mouth to the wall. How was your day? Mine was fine. You looked absolutely beautiful today...What’s that? You want to go out with me this weekend? Where do you want to go? I could take you to the zoo. Do you like animals? I do. I love animals. I think-- I think I want to be a vet, Jillian. I know it’s not that glamorous, and you’ll be off being a famous movie star, and won’t think twice about a poor vet like me... I love you, too, Jillian.

Your mom calls you for dinner. Glance at the window: it’s suddenly dark.

* * *

 

Dad sits quietly at the head of the table, staring at his place-mat.

“Dad,” you say. He shudders. “How was work?”

“Fine,” he says.

“His presentation went very well,” Mom says, coming over with a plate of green beans. “Tell him, Bob.”

“My boss...didn’t leave the room this time,” Dad says.

“See? I told you,” Mom says. “Simon, go get your sister.”

Knock-- on the door.

“Go away,” Linda commands.

Hesitate. “Mom says it’s time for dinner.”

“I don’t care, I’m never eating again, I’m never going back to school! You can’t make me!”

You return to the kitchen. Mom looks up expectantly. “She’s not coming,” you say.

She shakes her head, and goes to fetch Linda. You and Dad wait in silence. Linda’s been crying, and her eyes and face are red.

“Linda,” Mom says, by way of explanation, “had a bad day at school.”

She’s not even in high school yet. What’s she going to do then. You adjusted. You had (Jillian) to. What if she doesn’t.

Dinner...is a mostly silent affair, and you escape as soon as you can. This house, this family, you are all equal, all separate. It’s...how things are done.

You sleep.

* * *

 

“Simon,” the teacher says.

Stare at your paper.

“Simon, are you paying attention?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Giggles, not even bothering to hide them.

“I’d like you to look at me when I am teaching.”

Defiant, meet her eyes, which are surprised. “I was thinking. Sorry.”

Such as it is.

* * *

 

You are caught unaware. Not fair, you think, to be caught at the water fountain. She sweeps her hair into one hand and bends down to drink, still talking with her bevy of attendant friends.

“Hey, move,” one of them says. To you? You are hypnotized.

“Creep,” another says, and brushes by you.

“Leave him alone,” Jillian says. She looks at you. You are frozen with fear. “You must be new. I don’t remember you. I’m Jillian.”

Can you speak? Do you have a tongue, lips, vocal chords? Do you even have lungs to draw breath. “I know who you are!”

Pause. “I just don’t remember seeing you around. Did you just move here?”

“No. No, I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Really? What’s your name?”

She wants to know your name. Your name? Whatever you want to call me, you nearly say. “Simon,” you manage.

She nods at you. “Well, I’ll see you around, Simon.”

A cloud of perfume, her perfect scent, surrounds you. Is this what it feels like to be drunk? Can this be heaven?

The bell rings for the end of school. You’ve missed everything, and nothing.

* * *

 

“So? How’d school go?”

“Mom,” you say. “It was amazing.”

She smiles at you. “What makes you say that?”

Should you tell her. What will she think. What will she *say*. Will she tell anyone else. Will--

“I met a girl,” you say.

“Really? Someone new?”

“No, I’ve known her since first grade.”

“But you just met her today?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

Don’t tell her don’t tell her, she might know Jillian’s mom, she might give it all away, oh god _no_ \--

“I don’t remember her name.”

She visibly deflates. “If you ever remember, let me know. We can invite her over for dinner one night.”

\--sitting here, across from your silent family, trying to make conversation, wondering what’s _wrong_ with these people, why don’t they ever say anything, they can’t be _normal_ \--

“Okay. Thanks, mom.”

* * *

 

Dad knocks on your bedroom door that night.

Okay, you think. Who died.

“May I come in, Simon?”

Race off the bed, open the door. “Sure, dad.”

You sit beside him on the mattress, staring at him staring at his knees.

“Did...you want to ask me something?”

He jumps, startled. “Yes. Your mother says you met a girl.”

Is this real? Should have hidden your interest, never should have said anything, how could you be so dumb. “Yes. Sort of.”

Breath. “Good for you.” He reaches out a hand, recoils, and then pats your shoulder. This must be your heart breaking. “If you ever need someone to talk to...” You hear him sweating.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll take you up on that.”

These changes, these new scary leaps. Mom helps Dad helps you helps--

Linda.

She denies you entry. “Go _away_!”

“I have chocolate.”

“Slide it under the door.”

“It won’t fit.”

Sniff. “Come in.”

Her room is crowded. You can feel her anger, her doubts, her fears. She’s your little sister. When did you miss it. When did you start caring. She takes the bowl of chocolate ice cream from you.

“Thanks,” she says.

“I remember middle school,” you muse, later.

“Don’t want to hear it.”

“It sucked.”

She pauses. “For you?” You nod. “You’re kidding.”

“No. It did. School still sucks.”

“You don’t have kids laughing at you because you’re terrified of your math teacher!”

“You’d be surprised.”

She grumbles. “I don’t believe you.”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

The cars pass outside the windows a dog barks.

“Do you ever just... want it to stop?”

You close your eyes, fall into complete darkness. “Yes. Sometimes.” You open them, and the room is brighter. “But then...I remember I have something to look forward to.”

“You? Never.”

“I do.” Gleam of skin in sunlight, ooh, that hair, eyes snapping happily, her lips, forming words that can’t be for you-- “You’ve got to find something.”

“What? How?”

“It’s different. You’ll never know. One day, nothing. The next, your whole world. And then...” You take a deep breath. “And then it’s up to you.” You stand.

“To do what?”

“To take it from there.”

* * *

 

“Jillian.”

She looks up at you. She smiles. “Simon, right? Hello.”

“I was wondering...”

“...yes?”

“My mom is making meatballs tonight. Would you like to come over?” She’ll never agree, what were you thinking, no girl’s going to want to come to a guy’s house and eat dinner with his family, you’re such an idiot for doing this, turn away now, before she has the chance to laugh, to insult you, to spit at you, to say--

“Sure.”

“Excuse me.”

“I said, okay. Will you drive me home after?”

“Yes.” Can she understand you, are you even speaking English, is *she* even speaking English.

“Okay. I’ll meet you out front after school.” She smiles again. “You’d better get to class, Simon, or you’re going to be late.”

School? School is meaningless. Nothing. Every life experience from now on will pale in comparison.

And yet? It can only get better from here on out.

You _hope_.


End file.
